


A Confidant for the Bride

by Fantom_of_the_Fiction



Series: The Person That You Click With [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And so does Mrs. Hudson, But Mary knows, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock and John are madly in love but don't know it, The Sign of Three Spoilers, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantom_of_the_Fiction/pseuds/Fantom_of_the_Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary gets Sherlock and John to go out on the Bloody Guardsman case. She knows that they both need it, that they both need each other. Mrs. Hudson doesn't know how to help Mary deal with knowing that her husband is in love with his best friend and doesn't even know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Confidant for the Bride

Mary watched Sherlock as he looked over the wedding plans stuck on the wall for the seventy-third time. She found it strange that he was obsessing over it. Wouldn’t he remember what was up there? She knew what was up there. Well, most of what was up there. She knew the general information, just not the details. Maybe that’s all he knew, too. But isn’t he one for the details?

 _‘I wonder what he’s thinking about.’_ She thought.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary.” He turned to her, “Looking a bit thin.”

She smiled sadly, “Oh, orphan’s lot. Friends, that’s all I have, lots of friends.”

“Schedule the organ music to begin precisely at eleven forty-eight…” He continued on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down.” She argued.

“Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.” He looked at her as if he didn’t understand where she was coming from. Which is exactly how he felt.

“Let’s get back to the reception. Come on.” She beckoned for him to sit down. She liked how interested Sherlock was in preparing the wedding, but it was getting to be a bit too much. He needed a case. Needed to get out of the flat. Needed to get out of her hair.

“John’s cousin.” She handed him a letter. “Top table?”

“Hmm, hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.” He deadpanned.

“Seriously?” _But she was so kind when I met her._

“Second class post, cheap card.” Sherlock sniffed the envelope. “Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp, three attempts at licking, she’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.” He handed it back to her.

“Ah, let’s stick her by the bogs.” Mary placed the card in a pile.

“Ah, yes.” Sherlock sat.

Mary cleared her throat and glanced toward John, and asked in a low voice, “Who else hates me?”

Sherlock nonchalantly handed her a list with fourteen names written on it.

“Oh, great, thanks.” _Brilliant. Marrying into a family that mostly hates me. My future is bound to be filled with joyous occasions._

“’Priceless painting nicked.’ Looks interesting.” John said from his spot in his armchair.

John had been looking up cases for Sherlock to work on. He had been focusing on the wedding far too much, and John knew that it was stressing him out, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

Mary knew the reason why, but she would never tell either of them. It would ruin all that she had built up over the past year and a half. She was going to marry John, whether he knew he wanted to or not.

She knew that Sherlock needed a case. But John also needed a case. They needed each other. They had grown so fond of their life together, separating them permanently would be the worst thing she could do to them. But she knew that it was already happening, and that it couldn’t be stopped. Well, it _could_ be stopped, but she didn’t want to think about that.

“Table four…” Mary asked Sherlock.

“Done.”

John laughed at the title of a case, “’My Husband is Three People.’”

“Table five…”

“Major James Sholto – who he?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh, John’s old commanding officer. I don’t think he’s coming.”

“He’ll be there.” John assured her.

She turned to him, “Well, he needs to RSVP, then.”

“He’ll be there.” He said again. Sherlock looked up when John mentioned the case again. “‘My Husband is Three People.’ It’s interesting. It says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.” John looked up at Sherlock.

“Identical triplets, one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat.” Sherlock left his seat and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table. “Now, serviettes… Swan or Sidney Opera House?” he asked Mary.

Mary was surprised. “Where did you learn that?”

“Many unexpected skills are required in the field of criminal investigation.”

“Fibbing, Sherlock.”

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of a fold.”

“I’m not John, I can tell when you’re fibbing.” _He never breaks an alibi._

Sherlock sighed. He obviously didn’t want to tell her the truth. “Okay, I learnt it on YouTube.” He looked down in shame.

 _Uh oh. Something’s up._ “Opera House, please. Oh, hang on, I’m buzzing.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pretended to answer it. “Hello?” she paused. “Oh, hi, Beth.” She got up out of her seat and went into the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not.”

John looked up from his phone. “Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me, too. Hang on.” John left his seat and followed Mary into the kitchen and Sherlock sat down in front of the serviettes.

“He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth, he’s going to figure out that it’s code.” John whispered to Mary.

“He’s YouTubing serviettes.”

“He’s thorough.”

“He’s terrified.”

“Of course he’s not.”

“You know when you’re scared of something you just start wishing it sooner, just to get it all going. That’s what he’s doing.”

“But why would he be scared that we’re getting married?” he asked. “It’s not going to change anything, we’ll still do stuff.”

 _You don’t see it, do you?_ “You need to prove it to him. I told you to find him a new case.”

“I’m trying.”

“But you need to run him, okay? Show him it’s still the good old days.” She motioned for him to go to Sherlock, and when he didn’t, she pushed him into the living room. _He needs this. You both need this._

Sherlock looked at him and back to the twenty-one Opera Houses that he had folded in the time that John was in the kitchen. “That just sort of happened.” He looked back at him.

John gave him a quick fake smile. “Sherlock, um, mate.” He walked over to the desk and sat down and Sherlock followed suit. “I’ve…”

Sherlock looked back to Mary in the kitchen. Obviously this was something that John didn’t want her to hear. ‘ _Good.’_ He thought. _‘Some slightly-alone time with John is just what I need to set this day straight.’_

“I’ve smelled eighteen different perfumes, I’ve sampled nine different slices of cake, which all tasted identical. I _like_ the bridesmaids in purple…”

“Lilac.” Sherlock corrected.

“Lilac. Um, there are no more decisions left to make. I don’t even understand the decisions that we _have_ made.” John’s voice became more desperate. “I’m faking opinions, and it’s exhausting.” He told Sherlock truthfully. “So, please, before she comes back…” John handed Sherlock his phone, checking to make sure that Mary wasn’t coming back yet, though he knew she wasn’t. “Pick something.” Sherlock looked back and forth between John and the phone. “Anything. Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

John looked at him in disbelief and laughed. “A case. Your inbox is bursting.”

 _‘Is he saying what I think he’s saying?’_ Sherlock thought.

“Just… get me out of here.” John pleaded.

“You want to go out on a case? Now?” Sherlock asked in disbelief. _And leave Mary?_

“Please. Sherlock, for me.”

Sherlock looked to the kitchen, then to John, licked his lips, and looked back to the phone. _Anything for you._ “You don’t worry about a thing, I’ll get you out of this.” Sherlock took John’s phone and looked through the cases, and John looked back toward Mary. “Oh.”

 _'Dear Mr Holmes. My name is Bainbridge. I'm a Private in Her Majesty's Household Guard._  
I'm writing to you about a personal matter - one I don't care to bring before my superiors.  
It would sound so trivial. But I think someone is stalking me. I'm used to tourists. It's part of the job.  
But this is different. Someone's watching me. He's taking pictures of me. Every day.  
I don't want to mention it to the Major. But it's really preying on my mind.  
I've read about you and I know this sort of thing wouldn't interest the police.'

“Uniform fetishist? All the nice girls like a soldier.”

“It’s ‘sailor.’” John looked pointedly at Sherlock, “And Bainbridge thinks his stalker is a bloke. Let’s… go and investigate. Please?”

“Elite guard.”

“Forty enlisted men and officers.”

“Why this particular Grenadier? Curious.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Okay.” Sherlock confirmed.

“Bye!” Mary said to them as she exited the kitchen.

Sherlock couldn’t look her in the eyes. He didn’t know why. He didn’t like not knowing why.

“Er, we’re just going to… I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er…”

“Ties.” Sherlock said.

“Socks.” John said at the same time.

“Why don’t we go with socks?” Mary suggested.

“Yeah.” John agreed.

“I mean, you’ve got to get the right ones.”

“Exactly, to go with my…”

“Tie.” Sherlock said again.

“Outfit.” John said, again at the same time.

“That’ll take a while, right?”

 _‘I hope it does take a while.’_ Sherlock thought.

“Is my coat in there?” John pointed to the kitchen.

“Yes.” Mary told him cheerfully.

Both Sherlock and Mary watched him walk into the kitchen. Sherlock gulped nervously.

“I’m just going to take him out for a bit.” Sherlock whispered to Mary, “Run him.” He gave her a fake smile.

“I know. You said you’d find him a case.” She had mentioned to Sherlock earlier that John needed a case, too.

“Coming, Sherlock?” John asked from just inside the kitchen.

“Coming!” he couldn’t wait to get going. He stepped into the doorframe, just out of John’s sightline.

Sherlock gave Mary a two-thumbs-up and John gave her the ‘okay’ signal. She responded with a mischievous smile and a two-thumbs-up back to both of them, and the detective and his doctor left the flat. John hadn’t thought to kiss her goodbye, too excited about the case.

Mary sighed and sat back down at the desk. She picked up the RSVP letters, looked at them, then dropped them right back down. She put her head in her hands and groaned.

She kept her head in her hands when she heard a knock at the door. It was most likely Mrs. Hudson or Greg; Sherlock and John would just walk right in, and it was unlikely that either of them had forgotten something.

“Come in.” she told whoever was at the door. It opened, and in came Mrs. Hudson with a tray of tea.

“Oh, so that’s where my other tray got off to.” She said as she looked down at the tray that Sherlock had presented the folded serviettes on. “Hello, dearie.” Mrs. Hudson said to Mary and looked around the flat. “The boys go out?”

“Yep. Found themselves a case.” She turned to the older woman.

“Oh, lovely. Sherlock’s been needing one.” Mrs. Hudson smiled and set the tray down on the coffee table.

“Oh, I know.”

“John has, too, you know.”

“Knew that one, too.”

“Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

Mary moved to sit on the couch and watched Mrs. Hudson prepare the tea. She joined Mary on the couch when she finished and handed her a teacup and saucer.

“It’s difficult, you know. Being engaged to a man who’s already in love.” Mary looked around the flat. “I thought he had gotten past it by now.” She added quietly as she took a sip of her tea. Chamomile. ‘ _Good, I need to calm my nerves.’_

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I’ve heard.”

“Not really helping, Mrs. Hudson.”

Mrs. Hudson sighed and set her teacup down into the saucer. “Sherlock’s been in love with John for ages. He doesn’t recognize the emotion, I should think. He’s confused, doesn’t know what to think of it. He can’t just get rid of it, and it frustrates him.”

“It’s even more difficult when neither of them even know it.” Mary sighed again. “What am I going to do, Mrs. Hudson?” she looked at her pleadingly.

“I don’t know, dear. I really don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
